


Veni, vidi, vici

by sevenpercentofeverything



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpercentofeverything/pseuds/sevenpercentofeverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words can be hard, but Tony's a man of action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veni, vidi, vici

The problem was, no one liked to talk to each other.

 

Well. About important things, anyway.

 

It was easy to understand; after all, they got along great, like a team (like a family), each one willing to lay his life on the line for the others. So if something important was going on...something that related to another team member...it was pushed to the back of the mind so that no one would end up rocking the boat enough to tip it.

 

Which is why Tony found himself down in his workshop, angrily hammering out dents in his armor and thinking about his...important thing. Important teammate thing.

 

It would be easier if Steve were unattractive. Or un-nice. Or something. If he just wasn't so...Steve. Yes. Being Steve was a big part of the problem. Because Steve was currently the center of 90% of Tony's fantasies, and 78% of his hopes and dreams (ugh). Tony couldn't go twelve hours without seeing big, blue eyes shining up at him out of his latest daydream, or feeling the phantom press of that lush lower lip pressing against his mouth. And those were just the PG-rated daydreams.

 

It was disgusting how mushy his subconscious got, sometimes.

 

He could understand the baser fantasies - after all, the man was a super soldier, just the wide spread of his shoulders could make even the prudish person fantasize about riding that pony into the sunset. Add in the heroics and general "Let me climb into that tree to save your kitten, ma'am" and no true red-blooded American person could resist wanting to dry hump Steve's perfectly sculpted, serum-enhanced ass (Tony included).

 

But Tony wanted to do...other things. Things that his waking mind didn't want to face, so they tap danced their way through his brain when he was asleep. Things like...picnics in Central Park, and watching sunsets on the roof, and holding Steve's face in his hands as they kissed so that he could cradle his jaw to hold him close as they breathed together.

 

The teammate thing wasn't usually that big a deal. Tony had dated coworkers, had dated underlings, had dated Pepper, and HR had a field day with him and his various levels of inappropriateness for a corporate setting and it really wasn't his deal, following rules, so it usually didn't matter to him anyway. But the Avengers were important to Tony. They had formed this weird group of compatriots, living together in his tower, a strange family pulled together by circumstance and fate and the fact that Thor made really kickass waffles on Sundays. He didn't want to risk fucking anything up with a quick roll in the hay (or cuddle in the hay, or whatever disgustingly adorable context his subconscious kept wanting to do to Steve). He had a family now, weird and terrifying as they sometimes could be, and doing something like dating their ridiculously hot team leader made him actually nervous about how much he had to lose this time around.

 

So. Workshop, armor, no banging Steve into next Tuesday.

 

This would also be easier without Steve around, but the flesh is weak.

 

Tony cursed the momentary (constant) blindness he had towards Steve and his gorgeous face (or maybe ass, Tony hadn't yet decided which part was his favorite. Chest?) when he told him to make himself comfortable in the workshop, that Tony and the robots needed the company.

 

Steve was sitting on his couch. Steve sat on his couch most days of the week, in fact, between morning sparring and lunch, sketching. Or talking to Tony. Or reading. Or doing other (ridiculously attractive) things that distracted Tony from what he was supposed to be working on by forcing him to sneakily stare at Steve and his (ridiculously attractive) face instead of working on the blueprints Pepper had made him promise he’d have ready for the Board by next week.

 

Stupid Steve, who had no idea of Tony’s inner turmoil and was therefore sitting contentedly, sketching, the tip of his tongue wetting his lower lip as he shaded. Tony’s eyes traced that tongue as it slowly moved from one side of Steve’s lip to the other. He mentally promised himself that if he were ever dying (actually dying) in a 100% unavoidable way, he would furiously make out with Steve Rogers before perishing heroically in his arms, forcing Rhodey to build a statue to honor his sacrifice to humanity as all would mourn for him, saying things like “why did such a handsome man have to die?” “and so generous and selfless, too!” and Steve could say something like “Tony, -”

 

“Tony -”

 

Like that.

 

“Tony, is everything okay? You seem distracted. Anything you wanna share?”

 

Tony shook himself, wandering back from daydreams to reality. He shrugged and grinned at Steve - “Just got distracted, Cap.” - and turned back to his work. Steve’s eyes stayed on him a beat more, then went back to his sketches.

 

“Alright. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

 

Suddenly, Tony was furious. Here he was, being noble and self-sacrificing and everything for the good of the team, and it went against every instinct he had. He was a man who saw and conquered, not sat and watched passively.

 

He stood up.

 

“Cap, what are your feelings on Manifest Destiny?”

 

“Manif-mmph!” Tony latched on to Steve, kissing him dead-on.

 

“Let me know if I’m being too forward, but I had a hypothesis and needed to know if I was right.”

 

“Hypothesis?”

 

“Whether or not you would kiss me back.”  
  
“What happens if you’re right?”

 

“I pat myself on the back for being a total genius and then let you screw me into the bed.”

 

“Oh. Well, you’re right, but the couch is closer.”

 

“Good point. I’ll let you take half the credit on this one.”

  
There wasn’t a lot of talking after that, but Tony didn’t mind it too much. 


End file.
